


Gravitational Collapse

by Imadeamistake



Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Character Study, Gen, set 2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:46:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25555288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imadeamistake/pseuds/Imadeamistake
Summary: Ibushi had never presented himself as anyone other than precisely who he was. There was no reason to not accept his apology at face value, except for the chime of some instinct that insisted nothing was ever that easy.
Relationships: Ibushi Kota & Tanahashi Hiroshi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

The final months of the Heisei era flew by in a whirlwind of work.

Tanahashi's days were an endless succession of appointments - appointments with hairdressers and physiotherapists, with reporters, office staff and photographers. They chimed from his phone at all hours of the day and night, driving him on to the next one and then the next one and then the next one. Tanahashi wouldn’t have had it any other way.

He mastered the art of waking up before the alarm and leaving home without disturbing anyone else. On days like those he felt more like a narcoleptic burglar than the man of the house, creeping in after midnight and sneaking out again before dawn. 

The IWGP championship was won and lost again amid the storm. Tanahashi riding high on the crowd’s screams of triumph and low on their moans of defeat.

Afterwards, he allowed himself the luxury of turning off his phone for two whole days.

The world having slowed down, Tanahashi was finally able to stock of the wreckage his single-minded focus had left behind. He then proceeded from the inside moving outward, repairing each damaged, tired thing he found along the way. The stress lines on his face faded. He healed his aching joints with hot baths and slow stretching, granting his body the days of recovery denied in the lead up to Wrestle Kingdom. He ate breakfast and dinner at home, fixed door hinges, attended school meetings and when all that was managed, it was time to deal with work again.

\--

Ibushi’s nervous, formal apology was unexpected but not at all unwelcome. In all the years Tanahashi had known the man, Ibushi had never presented himself as anyone other than precisely who he was. There was no reason to not accept his apology at face value, except for the chime of some instinct that insisted nothing was ever that easy.

He hadn’t seen Ibushi after his Tokyo Dome match. But the crowd’s cries at his injury rang clear in Tanahashi’s memory.

It was over a month after Wrestle Kingdom before they crossed paths. By then, everyone's true intentions had been laid bare for the world to see.

If Tanahashi had expected anything, it would have been for Ibushi to be angry with him and he invited the man out to dinner the first week of his return in the hopes of reassuring them both of their continued amity. Though Ibushi’s injury had been unfortunate, the extra time to train and prioritize his heath had been beneficial. He was in better shape than ever, his wide arms bulging where they hung from the loose sleeves of his t-shirt.

(Tanahashi quietly added an extra set of reps to his own workout schedule.)

Ibushi was polite and deferential - perhaps he knew better than to blame his current lonely predicament on those not responsible for it – but Tanahashi was still determined that something should be said.

“How are you coping?” 

“With what?” Ibushi asked, all innocence.

“Ah, with your decision to stay. It must have been very difficult for you, after… everything.”

“Mm,” Ibushi chewed on a stem of broccoli.

It was impossible that Ibushi not harbour _some_ resentment, how could he not after the last tag match they’d had in December and the weeks before it?

If Ibushi wasn’t angry with him, perhaps the relationship between he and Omega had deteriorated past what Tanahashi had been aware of. 

“If you need anything that I can help you with, please know that you can always ask. I want you to feel comfortable here. You don’t have to feel like you’re alone.” Tanahashi said, and he made sure to smile his warmest smile over the narrow table.

“You are being very kind."

Ibushi looked back at his plate, a flush of humiliation rising in his cheeks. Tanahashi felt a stab of compassion for the man, and he vowed to himself then and there that he would not let Ibushi regret his choice. 

\--

For the most part, the members of Hontai and Chaos admitted Ibushi easily into their strange amalgamative faction. The lead up to the New Japan Cup tended to devolve into every man for himself anyway, and faction ties wore thin. Ibushi assumed a spot the middle of the bus and perhaps this was a calculated choice on his part. Strong preferences may exist on sitting at the front or back (Tanahashi himself preferred the back) but his intrusion into the middle of the bus could cause no reproach. He was a quiet passenger whenever Tanahashi observed him from his own seat, his muscled shoulder sticking out into the aisle. And so he settled into place among their ranks with minimal questioning.

The New Japan Cup was spectacular that year, though not for Ibushi.

When Tanahashi came backstage after winning through to the semi-final, glowing from cheers that rumbled through the building and up into his very bones, Ibushi wouldn’t meet his eyes. He continued to brood on the outskirts of the group for much of the evening, through dinner and drinking.

Tanahashi was considering pinning him down for another attempt at a real conversation when he saw Ibushi crack a smile at one of Taguchi’s bawdier jokes and his worries faded.

Ibushi would be alright.

Jealousy was a motivator that Tanahashi was intimately familiar with, it was an instinct better to have than not. Those who are satisfied with their situations stop growing altogether - Tanahashi had found - and it was right that Ibushi should continue to grow. 

\--

The next morning was an early start. Tanahashi entered the lobby of the hotel, bag in hand and couldn’t help but notice it was a little too busy for the hour. A father and son had been watching the elevator. Tanahashi knew the look and smiled at the little family.

"Good morning," said the father, bowing his head.

"Good morning," Tanahashi said.

"Good morning," squeaked the boy, two huge starstruck eyes peeking out from under a baseball cap.

"How are you today?" Tanahashi asked him.

The boy's father produced an autograph book and Tanahashi signed it with a flourish.

"We're going to the show tonight!" the boy said, trembling.

"I'll look for you when I'm in the ring," Tanahashi promised.

Both father and son thanked him and went on their way. The son hanging off his father's hand like every step he took away from Tanahashi was painful.

Next was a group of three middle aged women, each of them trying to push the other two forward and slink to the back meaning that for every two steps forward they took one back and prolonged the wait for themselves and Tanahashi.

"Good morning!" he said.

They hesitated together and then began talking all at once.

"Tanahashi-san I can't believe it's really you!"

"We're big fans!"

"It's so amazing to see you! Can we take a picture?"

“Of course,” Tanahashi said, glad he had taken the time to style his hair before coming out.

He excused himself and finally checked out half an hour later. Opening the back door in the direction of the parking lot, he came upon Kota Ibushi surrounded in the narrow passageway by his own group of smitten young fans.

“-This is so cool! you have no idea!” “Can we take a picture?” “Could you sign this one too?” “We were all so afraid you would leave!” “You wouldn’t have done that really would you?”

Ibushi tried to take a step further towards the parking lot but could only back away into the wall.

Tanahashi didn’t break his stride, “Good morning!” he called brightly, and the fans turned to greet him. Behind them, Ibushi slumped against the wall in relief. "Come on Ibushi! Sorry everyone, we look forward to seeing you this evening!"

\--

“Thank you, Tanahashi-san,” Ibushi said tightly as they hurried to the coaches together, “I’m sorry for inconveniencing you.” He was more disheveled then he usually arranged himself to be, Tanahashi noted, but wore it well as the most handsome of people can.

“Not at all. Meeting fans is a pleasure, though it is unusual for them to show up so early.”

“One of the young lions posted a photo of the hotel restaurant on twitter last night,” said Ibushi.

“Ah.”

That would explain it.

Tanahashi made a mental note to go over social media policy the next time he was at the dojo. However, being showered with joy and love from the fans was something Tanahashi could never truly lose patience for, so the lecture would be a brief one.

The crisp morning chill was still hanging in the air. The coaches had intended to leave before the morning traffic, and despite the delay they might still beat it. One of the wheels of Ibushi’s case bounced on an uneven square of paving and threatened to jerk out of his hand.

“We don’t need to rush,” Tanahashi reassured him with a smile. “The coach would never have left without you, you know.”

“It wouldn’t have left without _you_ Tanahashi-san.” Ibushi fought a yawn. “How can you be so happy so early in the morning?”

“I have lots of things to be happy about,” Tanahashi said, “and it’s important to smile even when you aren’t happy you know.”

“I’m not sure I can be like that,” Ibushi sighed, stowing his cases in the belly of the coach and then generously sliding Tanahashi's case in above it. “I don’t have your strength Tanahashi-san.”

“Now that’s not true,” Tanahashi replied.

Ibushi had his own kind of strength but where it would land him remained to be seen. 

\--


	2. Chapter 2

Ibushi was different alone. More reserved than he had been. But Tanahashi had faith that he would get through this and be all the stronger for it when he did.

The previous year Tanahashi had watched the Golden Lovers’ brutality in the ring show through over sweetness and pet names, and over Omega’s increasingly desperate declarations. Perhaps the foreigner really had been in love with Ibushi - or thought he was. The possibility of it struck Tanahashi as quite tragic, as he felt he had seen little evidence the strength of those feelings was ever reciprocated. 

In all the ways that Omega had been embarrassing to behold as a top contender, Ibushi was graceful and effortless. It was long past time for him to step into the spotlight alone. That had been another thing difficult for Omega to accept, Tanahashi thought. There was no room at the top for two, and it was the very nature of the world that there never could be.

\--

Reserved though he might be, Ibushi still had his quirks. Tanahashi got up at 4am to do a radio interview the morning of the show, and found Ibushi alone in the gym, lifting weights with his eyes closed. If it wasn’t for the movement of his arms Tanahashi might have thought him asleep.

“Ibushi?” He stirred like he really was waking up. “Apologies, am I interrupting?”

“No, no it’s okay, why are you up so late?” 

“Actually, I’m early. I’m going on the radio today! Have you not slept?”

“Not yet.” Ibushi moved to the chest press. 

They worked out in a companionable silence for several minutes.

He should leave the other man be, Tanahashi admonished himself. If Ibushi was here by himself at this time it was because he wanted to be left alone. It was just as Tanahashi decided this on this course of action and vowed to himself that he would stay out of the other man’s affairs, that Ibushi stopped using the chest press and stood up to examine it. 

“Tanahashi-san,” Ibushi said very seriously. “Is it possible to get tired of sleeping?”

“Are you trying to trick me into admitting I get tired?” said Tanahashi, raising his eyebrows.

“No,” Ibushi moved onto one of the machines, hands gripping tightly around the handles. “It’s strange, right now I feel tired, but my body wants to move and if I try to sleep, I know I won’t be able to.”

“So, your body is awake but your mind is tired?”

Ibushi shook his head. “My body is exhausted.”

“Then it must be the other way around. Your mind is active, but your body wants to sleep.”

Ibushi shrugged. “It doesn’t want to sleep; it wants to move.”

“I think I understand,” said Tanahashi, though he wasn’t sure that he did. 

He was half convinced that the conversation had been a dream when he came back from the radio station.

\--

Tanahashi prepared for the semi-final match with Sanada with the same diligence as for the previous three matches in the cup. He stretched, watched his opponent for weaknesses and blocked out thoughts of anything other than victory. In the end, Sanada was younger, faster, and didn’t have one knee about to fall off.

The bitter disappointment of the loss was diminished by Okada’s victory the same evening. Only on Tanahashi’s best days was he a match for Okada now, with his knee in its current state this was far from a best day. It was gratifying at least to think that Jay White’s reign was coming to a swift end. Okada might be impetuous and arrogant, but he was also the best wrestler in the world – painful as that was to admit. Sanada fell before him as he must, and the main event for Madison Square Garden was set.

Tanahashi’s elimination from the cup also relived the strain that had been weighing on his relationships with Shota Umino, Ibushi and Taguchi, all of whom he had knocked out of the cup, and the journey to New York was a more enjoyable affair for it. As for Okada, he was the same as ever, it took a lot of pressure to break the Rainmaker’s cool. 

Ibushi handled the lead up to his impending match with Naito well. Tanahashi was pleased to see him laughing along with the others. A wrestler like Ibushi didn’t benefit from being in his own head too much. It was good to see him letting loose and he told Ibushi so over dinner.

“As long as I’m not going too wild?” Ibushi asked, his teeth showing.

“Not at all.”

Tanahashi eyed Ibushi’s fries jealously as the other end of the table exploded in argument. Juice and Robbie Eagles were almost coming to blows over something while Ospreay sat between them, a chicken wing on the way to his mouth, utterly befuddled. 

It was something that Tanahashi would not be quick to admit - especially not within Okada’s hearing - but he loved fighting alongside Chaos. He enjoyed tagging with them, enjoyed sharing meals and spreading out over multiple locker rooms with them. He loved being close enough to hear Sho, Yoh and Rocky’s ridiculous conversations, loved the quiet, dry humour of Ishii and Goto. No doubt it would come to a bitter end one day, but Tanahashi hoped that would not be for a while yet.

Robbie slammed his fist down on the table.

“What are they getting so angry about?”

Rocky, who had been watching the scene unfold and snickering through his steak, explained to Okada who also guffawed and shook his head, “Idiots!” he proclaimed.

Tanahashi shot him a quizzical look and Okada sighed self-importantly.

“It’s just some trick question Zack Sabre Junior asked Will on the flight over,” he said “It’s really stupid. What’s heavier? A kilogram of steel or a kilogram of feathers?”

“Steel duh,” said Ibushi.

“Yeah, right?” said Okada, “I don’t know why they’re getting so worked up about it.” 

Rocky spat his drink.

“Gross,” said Okada, shoving a stack of paper napkins at him.

“Thank god you guys are handsome,” said Rocky.

Tanahashi lamented, not for the first time, that maybe it would have been worth Okada finishing high school. Maybe he could still make a case to the office for sending him back.

“If things are one kilogram, they are always going to weigh the same,” Tanahashi explained, “neither one is going to be heavier because they both weigh a kilogram.”

“Then why do they put steel on the weight machines, why don’t they just use feathers if it’s the same?” said Okada, stuffing his big mouth with little New York pretzels.

“It’s more convenient. You would need a lot of feathers to weigh the same as a block of steel. The space the kilogram of steel takes up isn’t as much.”

“Yeah because it’s heavier,” said Ibushi.

Rocky was almost crying. Tanahashi made a mental note to hold nothing back against Zack the next day. He finished off the last of his low-carb salmon and spinach dish and resigned himself to an evening of teaching high school physics.

He and Rocky were outlining the differences between mass, weight and density when Ibushi slid his fries over.

“Having one won’t make a difference,” he said, and he grinned at Tanahashi again like it was their secret to share. 

\--

In the end it wasn’t Tanashi’s knee that failed him. At Madison Square Garden the elbow that he had been nursing along for months finally popped, crunched, and gave out, driving all the air from his lungs as he screamed the pain out in the center of the ring – his loyal fans screaming back.

\--

“How can you be smiling at a time like this?”

The sounds of the main event echoed around the arena and into the backstage hallway. Tanahashi’s elbow was making him lightheaded. The painkillers he’d been given in the trainer’s room not yet totally absorbed by his beaten body. 

“How can you not be?” 

The intercontinental belt glittered around Ibushi’s waist, but he didn’t look any happier for it. Tanahashi understood. If Ibushi hadn’t taken the belt from Naito, he would have been inconsolable, as it was, winning was only just enough.

“Congratulations. It’s been coming for a long time,” he gave Ibushi’s arm a squeeze. “You should be happy.”

Ibushi nodded and Tanahashi hugged him with his one good arm. Ibushi hugged him back, carefully avoiding touching the sling. Tanahashi would be out for weeks, maybe months if he were very unlucky.

It was that thought that prompted him to take another try at the conversation that weighed on him.

“Look,” Tanahashi began, keeping his arm loosely around Ibushi’s own, “I know you would prefer not to talk, but let me, just this once.” Ibushi expression flashed to alarm but then faded into resignation. “It’s painful to do things alone but you’re so much better off like this. Omega left. It was a shame, but a person like that can’t be counted on to stay forever. I’m so grateful that you’re here. I’m so happy for you,” he whispered, tapping the belt around Ibushi, “You deserve it. Take care of it.”

“I won’t think about anything else,” Ibushi promised stiffly, backing away slowly.

He smiled at Tanahashi then, but it was that detached politeness that Tanahashi thought they were past, and he began to regret saying anything at all.


	3. Chapter 3

Three days after his elbow surgery Tanahashi was already aching for the ring. Such was his nature. Instead he sustained himself on rehabbing the arm and making himself useful around the dojo. He had experienced the triumph of Ibushi winning the intercontinental title in person and in a quirk of fortune he returned just in time to see Naito snatch it back. He sat backstage next to Shibata and watched as Ibushi and Naito tore one another apart on the screens.

He couldn’t find Ibushi afterwards, leaving him to wonder if Ibushi was avoiding everyone or just him. Considering their conversation in New York, he decided not to impose his presence where it was unwanted. Better to let the other man come to him when he was ready.

The year rolled on and it was the G1 again. America again. Okada again.

It was bitter to start the tournament with a loss, but it was a blow that Tanahashi had braced himself for.

His heart’s first impulse was towards despair when Ibushi’s ankle gave out in his first match, but the more ruthless side of Tanahashi was glad. Winning the tournament for a second year in a row had just become that little bit more achievable. He hadn’t made it where he was by showing mercy to his opponents, during this tournament - he reminded himself - that was all Ibushi could be.

\--

Shibata flew back with them after the show in Texas, and with him his retinue of wide-eyed young lions. He had trained them to be solemn and hardworking in his own image, though if they weren’t inclined that way before, Tanahashi was sure they would have long given up and found a more forgiving teacher. Shibata forwent his bamboo sword backstage, but he didn’t need it. The L.A. dojo lions leapt to their feet at his merest whisper.

Trying to undermine this strict training at all opportunities was tremendous fun, and Tanahashi made something of a hobby of it in the subsequent weeks. He slipped the Americans sweet treats every time he saw them and excused them from training to see the tourist sights of the local towns under the pretense of cultural education whenever he could.

Shibata accepted this without outright complaint but not without comment.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Excuse me?” teased Tanahashi, “I have no idea what you mean.”

“You think I’m too strict with them?” Shibata’s hard eyes locked accusingly on Tanahashi.

Perhaps it was his sanctimonious approach to wrestling, or his unflappable manner but Tanahashi couldn’t spend five minutes with the man without wanting to act like a child. It had always been so.

“You are very strict,” Tanahashi agreed. “They need to have someone around to balance you out.” 

“They need discipline,” Shibata insisted.

Tanahashi pressed a chewy candy into Shibata’s hand. When Shibata tried to return it, they scuffled back and forth, throwing the brightly colored packets at each other until they were interrupted by Okada, who walked in and gave them such a scathing look of smug superiority that they immediately formed an alliance and turned on him, pelting him with candies until he was forced to duck back out of the door.

It felt nostalgic to be discovered being childish with Shibata, and Tanahashi was dismayed to see him straighten up, drop all playfulness, and resume his dour expression.

“Spoil them then. If you distract them, they are the ones that will suffer.” 

He marched away, kicking a packet of candy out of his shoe. 

\--

Perhaps Shibata had a point about discipline and its role in the education of young lions. If Shota Umino had been better disciplined, he would have been more careful when moving around backstage. Instead he rushed past Tanahashi, a flurry of panicking limbs, almost knocking Tanahashi over and sending his water bottle flying out of his hand.

"Sorry Tanahashi-san!" he yelled, not looking back. He was wearing his spray painted Moxley t-shirt. Tanahashi gritted his teeth.

Uemura, who saw this play out from the other end of the hallway, hurried back to pick up the water bottle and placed it gingerly back into Tanahashi's open hand.

"Thank you Uemura. Moxley is keeping him busy then?"

Uemura nodded mutely.

"Maybe a little too busy?"

Moxley was in B block and thus Tanahashi was not disposed to squander much attention on him. But the care and training of the young lions was a matter that could not be overlooked.

He found Moxley watching wrestling on a battered grey laptop, it was the G1 match between Omega and Ishii from the previous year. Shota was spray painting something in the corner and the chemical smell in the room was noxious. 

"Come in!" Moxley barked excitedly when he spotted Tanahashi lurking outside the door. "Come in!" He got up from the bench and shook his hand with enthusiasm.

"Scouting Ishii?" Tanahashi inquired.

"Gotta get to know my opponents!" Moxley tapped the side of his head knowingly. "Can't be caught off guard. Shota! My man! How is that shirt coming along?"

Shota shrugged and held it up.

Moxley took it from him and examined it.

"No good!" He passed it back. "It needs to be like, cooler, know what I mean?"

Umino looked at him blankly. 

"This is the wrong green," Moxley declared, squinting at it. "See if you can get one that looks more… radioactive!"

They left him watching the finish of the match, bouncing wildly on the balls of his feet, bobbing up and down with pent up excitement.

"He's totally mad," Umino confided in Tanahashi, "But he's fun. And he’s tough too."

"Make the most of it then," Tanahashi told him. “But do tell me if it gets too much.” 

\--

The trainer's room was in constant demand. Tanahashi went there before his match with Sanada and found Yoshi-Hashi, Okada, Will Ospreay, Taichi and Ibushi all queuing up against the wall outside. Taichi was muttering under his breath on the evils of queue-jumping champions and shooting glares at Okada who paid him no mind whatsoever. Tanahashi joined the back of the line.

"Who is in there right now?" he asked Ibushi.

"LIJ."

A minute or so later, Naito and Sanada came out making Tanahashi feel a little better about his chances against the latter.

Tanahashi prepared himself for his usual dance with Naito, a minute exchange of glares and disapproving sighs mostly invisible to the untrained eye. But as they passed, Naito took no notice of Tanahashi at all, (and not the deliberate no notice Naito was sometimes wont to do, in which Naito instead picked an innocent inanimate object to feel the hot strength of his animosity) Naito swayed for a moment, like he might lose his footing, and out of the corner of his eye Tanahashi saw Sanada subtly brush Naito's elbow to put him back on course.

So, the rumours were true. There was something very wrong with Naito. It was only a question of what, and whether it would prove to be his undoing in the tournament. 

Tanahashi disapproved of Ospreay and Okada going in together, but it was what they did. They were competitors in the same block, and in his opinion, it was bad form for them to forget that, even if they had already faced each other.

Taichi, Ibushi and Tanahashi waited in silence. Chaos came out and Taichi went in.

Ibushi rested his back flat against the wall, eyes closed.

Tanahashi considered saying something but then thought better of it. There would be opportunities for them to talk after the G1. For now, they must be opponents first.

Their match was only a week away. 

Still.

“How is your ankle?” Tanahashi asked.

“Fine thank you,” replied Ibushi, guarded, just as he should be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes you write a fic that is only interesting to you, and that's okay!

On the day of the match all distance imploded. There was only the crunch of Ibushi's fist against his ear and the rattle his own lungs made when one of those vicious kicks smacked into his ribs. Tanahashi felt it then, the anger set inside Ibushi's bones, flowing into his every movement.

He pulled Ibushi close for control, all the while being smothered by wild arms and knees whipping at anything and everything. The anger Ibushi spent so much energy on keeping back finally being allowed to burn as brutally as it wished. It was free here, and Tanahashi was tangled up by the power of it.

At the end of it all, Tanahashi couldn’t muster any answering anger. Not at himself or Ibushi. He gave it his all, Ibushi gave it his all and they were both one year older.

Tanahashi was left aching in Ibushi’s wake, not just from the bruises Ibushi left under his skin, but from the raw pain Tanahashi felt behind all his movements. He howled and raged at Tanahashi. The injury had changed him for the better - the pain of it radiating off him in waves - he was stronger than ever for the way learned to harness it. The grim set of his face as he squared up to Tanahashi proof of his conviction in a way his stilted smiles never were.

One year made all the difference. Ibushi was better than him. He cried about that a little bit, on the mat, when he couldn’t move to do anything else.

\--

Later, he believed it when Ibushi proclaimed their match a new beginning.

Ibushi came to his locker room afterwards still wet with sweat, the glow of victory on his face dimming as he hesitated in the doorway.

"I meant what I said out there," said Tanahashi. 

"Let’s catch up," said Ibushi.

\--

Ibushi ordered them dinner and then fell like a tree coming down on to the sofa in his hotel room. Tanahashi sat in the high-backed chair opposite, lifting his foot onto the coffee table to elevate the knee that was most painful and Ibushi did the same with his battered ankle. It looked swollen again even under the sock.

"I wanted to make sure you’re okay, and that… we’re okay." It might have been the longest sentence Ibushi had said to him in months, and Tanahashi couldn't help but wonder if a friendship where Ibushi had spent a significant amount of time avoiding him, only to be avoided in turn when the G1 began, was worth checking in on at all.

"I’ll push through. My ego is more bruised that my body. I'm getting old now - this is the way things go! No one stays young forever." The words skipped from his mouth lightly, but he didn’t believe them, and neither did Ibushi.

“As long as you’re not old, I’m not old. So stay young for a little longer, if you don’t mind!”

“Of course _you’re_ not old,” Tanahashi assured him, “don’t be ridiculous.”

"Well according to you I only have five more years to be young. No time left to waste,” Ibushi bit back. 

"Hah! It does sound premature when you put it like that."

When the food came Ibushi wolfed his down and lay back again, draping himself over the sofa and playing on his phone while Tanahashi finished his own meal more sedately. The combination of the posture and the light atmosphere made Ibushi feel alien. Tanahashi preferred it enormously over his usual quiet formality.

“Do you speak to Nakamura-san these days?”

“I keep up with him. Do you?”

“I’m not great at it honestly. But that’s not specific to him. My mom tried to call me after this happened,” he lightly ran his fingers over his injured leg, “but I was on the plane, so I missed it. I didn’t call her back for two days and she was so angry.” 

“Rightly so,” said Tanahashi, whose sympathies lay more with the parent than the child in most cases these days, but even more so in this instance. Perhaps this kind of behaviour too was part of what made Ibushi seem younger than he was. Oh, to be young and only thinking of oneself.

Ibushi smiled at him, tired but alive. Earlier in the tournament, Tanahashi had fallen into the trap of counting him out of the final. A shocking mistake. Ibushi was same age as Naito but Tanahashi would never have guessed it to look at them. Naito was perpetually worn out, the slovenly way he moved around not helping his appearance. Ibushi was more like himself, though Tanahashi, even at his prime, didn’t think he’d ever had a body on par with Ibushi’s. His torso was a perfect upturned triangle.

"Do you know what's wrong with Naito?" Tanahashi asked.

"Something’s wrong with Naito?" So much for finding out more about that. He hadn’t expected Ibushi to be a fountain of gossip on the subject, but it was worth a shot.

"Maybe, I’ve been hearing some things."

Ibushi shrugged his shoulders, Tanahashi wished that he could put it out of his mind as easily.

"Moxley probably knows, you could ask him."

"What?"

"What's wrong with Naito – he beat him after all."

"Does that mean you know what's wrong with me?"

"Yes," Ibushi replied.

Tanahashi didn’t ask him to expand. His knee thrummed with a steady bleeding pain that tensed through his body and exhausted it, joined in chorus by the twinge that had never left his shoulder. 

\--

The next morning Ibushi was his polite self again. He looked at Tanahashi with so much weight and it was only after seeing that weight lifted the previous evening that Tanahashi noticed it. He found himself mourning for the easy chatter that the post-match atmosphere had allowed them but was hopeful of finding a way to bring it back someday, now that he knew it was a possibility.

That Ibushi had proven his strength to himself meant more than anything Tanahashi could have done. Intruding on the final would only detract from Ibushi’s strength. He had never needed his ego propped up by sycophants on the side-lines.

Ibushi's focus was single-minded and tempered by the pain he had driven his mind and body through in the last month - in the last year. Tanahashi had faith in him. The harder steel is beaten, the sharper the sword can become. Ibushi fought the Bullet Club alone and when his last strike knocked the light out of Jay White and he raised the trophy, Ibushi shined brighter than ever.


	5. Chapter 5

Winning did wonders for Ibushi. Where he'd previously sat silent at the dinner table, now he talked and laughed with the others. Though Tanahashi doubted he'd ever be the life and soul of the party, his presence bought the same atmosphere of excitement to Hontai as his own win had the year before.

The informality of the night after Ibushi had beaten him in the G1 was not to be recaptured, though Tanahashi did try. Teasing was met with politeness. Self-deprecation with earnest assurances of the opposite. Despite this, Tanahashi was delighted when Ibushi moved back three rows from his usual bus position - now a mere two rows away from Tanahashi's seat at the back. He didn't dare comment on it, wary that Ibushi might startle like a nervous cat that has noticed it is being spied on from the garden door. But it was progress nonetheless.

Less tenable day by day was the continued close association of Hontai and Chaos. While Tanahashi been more than happy to mingle with them before the G1, eating and drinking together when Okada and Ibushi would be facing off in less than three months was an invitation to trouble. 

\--

"Are you leaving us already?"

"No no, I'll be back," Ibushi promised, "I need to take a call, it will only be a moment."

Raucous laughter crashed at the other end of the long table. Taguchi and Yano were regaling the L.A. lions with stories of their youth, at the middle of the table Juice and Ospreay were begging Rocky to put them in contact with a cheap rental agent he knew. Tanahashi watched them all, content.

Okada slid into the seat Ibushi had vacated, jostling Yoshi-Hashi in the process who nearly tipped a glass of beer over his partially eaten crab.

"So old man,” Okada said brazenly across the table, "Who’s corner will you be in come January? Mine, right?"

"My own, of course. Against whoever my opponent ends up being."

"But when it comes to _my_ match?” Okada pressed; his perfect smile gleaming, red cheeks flushed with alcohol, “Me and Ibushi! You must have a favourite right? Don't be sour! You got the main event last year." Tanahashi wanted to kick him under the table but didn’t.

He hated how unimportant that seemed now. That was last year. Winning the G1 and ousting Omega were feats accomplished by a different Tanahashi - a younger Tanahashi. Okada, a star risen and rising still would not understand that for another decade. If he was lucky.

“Are you sure it will be you in the main event? I like Sanada’s chances,” Tanahashi said, just to see Okada pout.

“What the hell are you going on about? I _know_ I’m your favourite, or you wouldn’t be so jealous of me all the time.” Okada split a crab leg skilfully and popped a wet chunk of meat into mouth. “Ibushi is good. I look forward to beating him.” 

“You already lost against him once,” Tanahashi reminded him, “Keep that confidence of yours in check.”

Okada just smiled, his handsome mouth ballooning around the mouthful of meat. “Once is once. If he can do it again then he’ll impress me.”

Mayhem broke out as Shota and Ren poured iced soda down Juice Robinson’s back. He screamed and they leaped around in delight. They were both leaving next week, the occasion for this meal. Tanahashi was going to miss them terribly. 

“It will be an intense match at least. I hope he doesn’t crack under the pressure. I want a challenge.”

“You’re underestimating him,” Tanahashi said.

“I hope so.”

The conversation was ended when the outer door blew open and Ibushi returned as promised. Okada flashed him a grin and Ibushi returned it politely. The champion met Tanahashi’s eye one more time, shrugged and raised his eyebrows as if to say, _just watch me be right old man._

Tanahashi took great comfort in the thought even Okada would eventually age just like everyone else. He would be in opening tag matches. Maybe the Wrestle kingdom 30 pre-show. Untelevised.

Ibushi and Goto began an animated discussion about how many king crabs Yoshi-Hashi could realistically take on in a fight, punctuated by complaints from Yoshi-Hashi himself. Tanashi stayed out of it, absorbed in watching Shota and Ren at the other end of the table and preparing his heart for their coming absence.

\--

The irreverent mood couldn’t last forever, and in November, after the terms of the so called ‘Double Gold Dash’ were set, Jay White, Naito and Okada became embroiled in an escalating series of verbal clashes around and outside of the ring that were to bring it to an end.

Naito and Jay spent most of their energy playing elaborate head games with each other, but they both took time out of this busy schedule for the occasional pot shot at poor Ibushi, who was fundamentally unequipped to respond in kind.

\--

“Where do your loyalties really lie huh?” Tanahashi heard Naito say one day in a hotel lobby. He stretched one eyeball and peered at Ibushi in the usual ridiculous fashion. “No one here is ever _really_ going to trust you again you know. Would have been smarter to leave with the rest of them.”

Ibushi’s only response was a stiffening of his back and a slightly panicked expression.

Tanahashi cleared his throat from where he sat on his suitcase behind them, partially obscured by a potted plant. Naito shot him an unimpressed look through the leaves but moved on.

\--

“I didn’t realise Tanahashi won you last year along with the belt. I’d have asked him to put you on the line with it in our match!” leered Jay as he and Ibushi passed each other in a backstage hallway. Ibushi only glared at him mutely and kept walking. This time neither Jay nor Ibushi spotted him watching through a half open door, and given the nature of the barb, Tanahashi thought it best to not to intervene.

\--

“I’m going to do my best,” Ibushi told the reporters in his stiff practised manner. Eyes locked on his shoes.

The comments were mostly water off a duck’s back until they weren’t. Okada made his own cheap comment – Tanahashi never found out exactly what it was – and got a steel briefcase to the head for his trouble. After that Tanahashi didn’t have to worry about Hontai and Chaos associating too closely. Separate restaurant bookings were made from then on.

\--

After a restless night, Tanahashi took the elevator to the ground floor of the hotel and found he wasn’t the only one awake at 4am. The lights of the gym were flickering on and off.

He stepped through the sliding door and was greeted with a glare from the sole occupant of the gym, unhappy at being disturbed. It was frightening for a moment, and then his face settled into its usual calm and it was just Ibushi.

On one side of the gym a floor to ceiling window looked out at the mountains. Stars floated bright and clear above without the usual light pollution to cloud them. Tanahashi went to the window to look and Ibushi switched the lights back on. The stars vanished and all Tanahashi could see was his own reflection, ruffled and messy from disturbed sleep.

“What are you doing down here?” Tanahashi asked.

Ibushi turned the lights off.

“Have you slept?”

Lights back on.

Tanahashi could guess the answer already. Ibushi’s face was puffy and his eyes were dark.

Lights off.

He put his water bottle next to the cross trainer and hung his towel over the hand grips. “Nice view of the stars up here,” he continued lightly. The silence was unnerving. He heard Ibushi move and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He refused to turn around. It was only Ibushi.

There was the sound of a window being opened and the clean cold mountain air filtered in.

“I miss them in the city,” Ibushi finally replied.

“It’s easy to forget they’re there,” Tanahashi agreed. “The city lights are so much brighter. It’s so nice to come out here and see them all.”

“They aren’t.” 

Tanahashi didn’t know what conversation Ibushi thought they are having. He waited.

“Which is brighter? The stars or the lights?” Ibushi asked, his voice a dry whisper.

“The stars.”

He turned the lights on.

“Now?”

“The lights,” said Tanahashi uneasily, “You should go to bed.”

“They aren’t though, are they? The stars are just further away! Like with the feather thing. It doesn’t matter if the lights are on or off.”

“I’m going to walk you back to your room,” Tanahashi decided.

Ibushi didn’t fight it. He looked exhausted and bitter and so utterly angry and he allowed Tanahashi to pick up his things and steer him out of the gym and into the elevator.

How long was he in there, playing with the lights and working himself up? This was bad and Tanahashi wasn’t sure what - if anything - he could do to help matters. Should he even be trying to help? Ibushi would be stronger when he got past this on his own. If he could get past this on his own. Tanahashi reprimanded himself for this thought as soon as he thought it. Of course, Ibushi would get through this. _Of course he would._ Once the man had slept he would be his usual self again.

He resolved to get Ibushi back to his room and nothing more, but when they reached the door Ibushi was shivering violently and Tanahashi couldn’t bring himself to simply drop him off and walk away. 

Ibushi unlocked the door and stared at him with dark, hollow eyes. 

“Are you going to come in?”

“May I?” 

“If you want.” Ibushi held the door open for him and then slumped down on the edge of his bed. Tanahashi fetched them both glasses of water from the tray on the coffee table. This was silly, Ibushi wasn’t drunk, he wasn’t a child. Just because they weren’t opponents right now didn’t make them friends.

“Why can’t you sleep?”

“I keep thinking about things.”

“The Tokyo Dome?”

“Yes.”

Tanahashi didn’t ask which one. The silence stretched. Ibushi went into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

The bed covers were messy and Tanahashi was glad at this sign that Ibushi had at least attempted sleep. The curtains in the room had been pulled back and the stars shone through. Tanahashi got up and closed the curtains. He should go back to his own room; he should stay above this. He wasn’t involved. He shouldn’t get involved. He shouldn’t have favorites. The bathroom door opened.

Ibushi immediately went to the window, re-opened the curtains and collapsed on the bed.

“The thing is... I have to win,” Ibushi whispered, “If I don’t…then...”

He went silent. 

“Have some more water,” Tanahashi insisted, “staying up all night worrying won’t help.” It was too dark to see Ibushi’s face but Tanahashi heard the water rattle down his throat. “Go to sleep, I promise you you’ll feel better in the morning.”

Tanahashi waited until Kota’s breathing evened. Then he closed the curtains once more, refilled the glass of water and left, still uncertain if wouldn’t have been better if he had never gone down to the gym at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the last one. Thanks for reading!


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